


hyung

by VVSmydiamonds



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Apocalypse, Brotherly Love, Cannibalism, Gen, Good times, Hansel and Gretel Elements, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Not Beta Read, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSmydiamonds/pseuds/VVSmydiamonds
Summary: Their eyes were hypnotic, inviting him to stay and learn more about what they do, but he knew he had to leave.  If he didn’t get out, Johnny wouldn’t either.The shrieks of the lost people pierced his eardrums and made it difficult to focus.  Their wild behavior, animalistic stance, mob tactics, mad eyes, meatless bait—Mark came to an awful realization that made him want to pass out upon conceiving.They were cannibals.
Relationships: Mark Lee & Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	hyung

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually really short compared to what i could really do with this. i didn't want to get too carried away because surprise !! ive been planning an nct zombie apocalypse au for a really long time now and im excited to get working on it! this was supposed to be a short assignment, but i got excited and decided to post it here since my teacher doesn't know i submitted fanfiction <3

Being forced into hiding and having everything he knew and loved stripped away from him was not Mark’s idea of an ideal summer. With nothing left to his name for two years, the male had learned three things: 1) nothing is as it seems, 2) nothing will ever be as it seems, and 3) Johnny stunk. He didn’t mean the last lesson literally as a physical thing, but he thoroughly believed it applied to his attitude as well.

“Can you believe it’s been that long?” Mark asked, sliding his thumbs underneath the bulky straps of his backpack and tugging them outward to momentarily ease the tension along his shoulders. His round eyes flicked up to meet Johnny’s, but the older male’s gaze remained forward on the path. He had lost some of his youthfulness within the 13 months they’d known each other. The worry lines between his brows were prominent and he seemed to wear a perpetual scowl. Even just getting him to smile was both an accomplishment and a hardship.

“You said this two days ago, Mark.” Johnny stopped in his tracks for a moment and looked from side to side. He squinted at the trees and nudged the smaller man. “Mark, you have better eyes. Where are the slashes?”

Mark followed the other’s actions and pointed to the east, away from the setting sun. His finger showed them in the direction of a path of trees Mark had labeled. Each tree they needed to pass had a set of tally marks on them, which gradually increased or decreased depending on the direction. Since they were heading to their base (Johnny liked to point out that it was just an orange tent whenever Mark called it that, but “just an orange tent” was a mouthful to say), the tallies grew larger. Fortunately for them, the tallies displayed the highest number Mark had decided to go, meaning that they could get out of the bitter cold sooner rather than later. Johnny had picked up an almanac a few raids ago, something neither of them ever thought to be useful before the plague. 

The both of them had been through a pandemic before, but this — this was something else. People died, but then they were alive again; reborn, in an odd sense. Their bodies would continue to decay and rot and wither away to absolutely nothing, but they ravaged after the living the way wolves took down their prey. Having to watch people get caught in the center of such a mob had been unforgettable. Being swarmed on all sides with no way to escape except death made Mark’s gut twist. It felt wrong to admit he should be used to this, but it was also wrong to deny that such graphic events happened at all. 

_Stop_ _thinking_ , he reminded himself. When he cleared his mind of his unwanted memories, he was met with the zipped door to their tent. In a crude attempt to conceal the vibrant nylon, they had covered it in a layer of branches and placed it in the corner of a small cliff. They would be horribly cornered if they were to be in the event of the undead attacking them, but they never feared it too badly. They were up high enough on a mountain where most zombies couldn’t reach, but that meant they had to risk freezing to death instead. Mark was more than happy with the exchange and he sensed that Johnny felt the same way.

Bundling under a thin layer of blankets and finally releasing his shoulders of his heavy pack was almost the highlight of all his days. Rolling his joints and sometimes getting a clean  _ pop!  _ out of them was always nice to hear. Johnny wasn’t a fan of the noises cracking bones produced, but he had given up complaining about Mark’s habits within their first week of lodging together.

Truthfully, Mark enjoyed reminiscing over how they had met. It wasn’t a very happy story, so to say, but he wouldn’t have made it out alive if it weren’t for Johnny. Mark’s life had been in his hands. If Johnny hadn’t decided to spare him, Mark wouldn’t be here, tucked under rags they had stitched together or able to watch Johnny start what would be their last fire together. 

“We’re going out deeper in the woods tomorrow, Mark,” Johnny stated as he ducked his head to enter the tent. He ungracefully clambered in and flopped onto his heap of covers. “It’s not safe here anymore, not with winter approaching so quickly. We need to look down the mountain.”

“Already?” Mark asked, lying down on his back now. He faced the spotty roof of the tent before looking back at the older male. “Okay, then. When are we going?”

“Noon. It’ll be warmest then.” The older man wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and looked out at the fire. He glanced to the left to ensure his knife was still there before turning back to Mark. “Sound good?”

“Yeah, I think it does. Let’s go to sleep now, I’m tired.”

Johnny didn’t say another word and that was okay with Mark. The younger of the two was more than ready to sleep, but then he started thinking. What if they didn’t make it back? Johnny felt like such a brother to him. They could’ve been brothers, too, being that they were only four years apart in age. The thought of losing him made his gut twinge. Mark  _ had  _ to keep him safe and stick by his side. He didn’t want to be tossed back into the chaos of the earth without him.

Puffing a small sigh, Mark closed his eyes and rolled over so his back was facing Johnny. He curled the blanket further around himself and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

***** ***** *****

“There’s no way we’re lost.”

“We’re not lost”

“Yes, we are,” Mark said, panic lacing into his tone. None of the trees in the area displayed his planned markings, and the fact that Johnny seemed unbothered made his erratically beating heart only quicken its pace. He wished Johnny expressed more, even if it was just rolling his eyes or sighing. Mark needed to know he was feeling distressed too and not acting nonchalant for Mark’s sake. “It’s almost night.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to freeze.”

“No, we’re not.”

“I’m cold.”

Johnny shot him a look, his signature glare plastered over his face. In one swift motion, he swung his backpack off his shoulders. Mark squeezed his eyes shut and flinched back expecting to be hit, but the impact never came. When he finally peered up from his rigid stance, Johnny was holding his coat out to him. The green fabric hung limp in his grasp and swayed ever-so-slightly in the wintery breeze, almost inviting Mark to take it. The tattered threads near the middle of the sleeves blew gently and almost seemed to wave at him.

Mark hadn’t realized he was staring until Johnny cleared his throat. “Well? You said you’re cold.”

Taking his own pack off and setting it down, Mark outstretched his arms and accepted the quickly cooling material. Shrugging his bag off, he draped the coat over his shoulders and pulled his backpack over the top. Head hanging low, he checked over himself and adjusted the fabric so nothing pressed against him uncomfortably. He paced forward a few steps and was met with a barrier. Mark bounced back upon the collision and glanced up to see Johnny still in one place. Before he could open his mouth to voice his complaint, Johnny shushed him and pointed at a pillar of smoke. 

“People,” he mumbled, walking faster towards the fire. Mark wanted to protest that it was a bad idea; they didn’t know who these people were or if there even  _ were  _ people there in the first place, but he shut his mouth. Johnny had never steered him in the wrong direction before, so why would he now?

When they reached the base, they were met with the sight of food. Lots of food. More food than Mark had seen in a long time. Johnny would probably compare it to Thanksgiving, but that was never a holiday Mark had celebrated as he grew up in Canada. The urge to drop everything and eat was so alluring. His stomach rumbled and his hand reflexively rested over it. Johnny seemed to have noticed. He rested a hand over Mark’s shoulder and leaned closer to him.

“Mark,” he whispered, glancing between him and the fresh food resting upon the tables surrounding the fire. “I will vouch for us. Let’s eat and deal with the consequences later. What’s it going to hurt if we take a little bit?”

Mark didn’t need any further convincing. Just knowing that Johnny was in on it too made him comfortable. He hadn’t realized he’d been so tense as he stared at their potential meal. His shoulders relaxed and he slid his backpack off as he stepped closer, eyeing the food closely. There was no meat, but that was okay. They had apples. Mark would be happy with an apple.

Reaching forward and grabbing a green one, he checked his surroundings one last time before lifting the fruit up to eat. He examined the skin closely, taking note of a few blemishes, then unzipped his coat and shined in on his shirt. He took a bite out of the clearest spot and just about melted. It was sour since it wasn’t in season, but it was still so good. Where had these people gotten it? Surely there were no living trees along the border between the USA and Canada, but nonetheless, this was their oasis. Johnny seemed to have wandered off in search for the leader, making Mark feel vulnerable. He was in the open with nothing but a flimsy pocket knife to protect himself with, but he trusted Johnny. 

“Mark!” Johnny called, running back to him. Mark paused mid-bite and stared at him wide-eyed. 

“Johnny? What — ”

“Mark, they said you can eat what you’d like. Just don’t take too much. They want to see me, though, so I can’t linger here.”

“Are you serious? There’s no way they agreed so easily.”

“Just go with it for now,” Johnny spoke, his lips tugging back in a small smile. “Watch your back though,” he murmured, stepping a tad closer. “You can’t see them, but they can see you. One is eyeing you rather closely.”

Mark nodded and took a bite. Johnny spun back around on his heel and left the area, leaving Mark on his own to do as he pleased. It was when he was on his tenth bite when something felt wrong. After thinking, he could feel their eyes on him. He set the apple down and went to go get his bag, but he was met with an arrow piercing through his ankle. The male cried out in surprise, toppling over onto the dirt ground. The people in hiding emerged from the darkness, their eyes blown as wide as saucers. They whooped and hollered as they circled Mark, making him tremble in place. The closer they got, the more he tried to stand up and run, but he could barely stand. The arrow had shot clear through his achilles. 

Johnny came out from a different end of the woods he had originally gone into and had his wrists bound behind his back. Fear was everywhere on his face and that was when Mark knew for certain they weren’t going to make it out. 

“Mark, run!” Johnny called, thrashing around in the grasp of their attackers. No matter how hard he tried to shake them off, more and more kept coming. Soon they left Mark alone and sought after Johnny, now tearing him down to the ground. Each time he blinked, images of hordes of zombies flashed over his vision. These weren’t zombies. These were living, breathing people attacking him. Mark had to listen to him. Rarely ever did he disobey his words. Johnny was smart and knew how the world worked, so maybe he would break free from his deadly mistake.

Mark hobbled up and onto his feet, his stance shaky like that of a fawn’s. He stepped forward on wobbly legs and limped away from the scene. Looking back, his eyes met the crazed ones of a lunatic. If he had stayed put any longer, he would’ve been trapped. Their eyes were hypnotic, inviting him to stay and learn more about what they do, but he knew he had to leave. If he didn’t get out, Johnny wouldn’t either.

He scampered into the woods as best as he could, never turning back again. The shrieks of the lost people pierced his eardrums and made it difficult to focus. Their wild behavior, animalistic stance, mob tactics, mad eyes, meatless bait — Mark came to an awful realization that made him want to pass out upon conceiving. 

They were cannibals.

Mark could barely control his sobs. He wasn’t stupid; he knew Johnny was dead and lost to this world of destruction and malice. The boy could barely think as he stumbled through the woods, his eyesight bleary from unshed tears and his feet wobbly from exhaustion. The thought of curling up on top of Johnny’s warm coat tempted him, nearly coaxing the weak man into succumbing to fatigue. Johnny wouldn’t want him to rest so suddenly. He would probably say something with the best intention that hurt his feelings, but Mark wanted to hear one of his remarks more than anything in the world right now. Even if it was a dumb comment about his hair and how he needed to comb it, Mark sought out the warmth of knowing he’s still there beside him.

His chest ached, though, he couldn't tell whether his pain was from a past wound or the loss of his best and only friend. Everything hurt, he wanted to sleep, the night was freezing, the leaves were too loud,  _ his crying  _ was too loud, the — Mark cut himself off with a shriek of surprise. His feet went flying out from under him and he felt himself go spiraling down the riverbank. He landed unceremoniously, the rocks along the bank jabbing him in the ribs. Mark hissed as he maneuvered onto his side and off of his front. Everything that had been hurting before was now amplified. His labored breathing grew even more strained, his throat burning with the icy cold. It would be so easy just to give up. Giving up and resting seemed like too good of an idea to pass up.

Shakily, Mark began to lower his head to rest upon the frigid stones. A shiver jolted through him when his ear made contact with them, but he needed a nap. A nap is all it would be, nothing else. He’d wake up and Johnny would be there, and he’d be warm and they’d be eating Doritos from a successful run. Yes, that sounded nice. 

“Hey, kid!” 

Mark grimaced when he heard a shout. People were nearby? People were awful. He needed to get out of there. The male attempted to sit up, but his arms buckled beneath him and sent him crashing back down into the riverbank. He never made contact with the ground. A pair of arms looped underneath his shoulders and began hoisting him up. Soon other people surrounded him and he found himself boarding a truck. There was a large duck head painted onto it, and when he looked around, he saw that the people carrying him had the same symbol on their coats. 

“Hey, buddy, it’s going to be okay. You’re safe now, don’t freeze on us.”

Safe? How could he feel safe without Johnny? 

“Trade coats with him,” someone stated and Mark wanted to protest. But as his jacket was stripped away and replaced with a softer, warmer one, Mark couldn’t help but nuzzle into it. It didn’t smell like Johnny nor was it worn out around the elbows like his, but it would suffice for now. Maybe sleeping wasn’t that bad. After all, what was the point? Johnny, his brother, was never going to return. Mark was left to fend for himself in this cruel universe who took the good ones for itself, so why bother? Sleep was an escape. Didn't he deserve to? So that was what he did — he slept.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/tenleetaeyong) now so i can talk to you guys! im not the most active on it, but i want to know what you guys think of my stories :)
> 
> i hope you also understand the duck thing.. it might vary depending on the version of hansel and gretel you know, though. in the one im familiar with, a duck takes them across the river and back to safety. 
> 
> looking back, this story was kind of lame since i couldn't get as gory as i would have liked to, but i hope you enjoyed it either way <3


End file.
